Outtakes: Numb3rs
by hiddenmoments
Summary: A place for all the bits and pieces that happen outside the published chapters of whatever I end up writing. 25/3/13: Maybe We'll Buy You A Cape: Some fun with Nikki and her teammates before she joins the LA office, pre-The Daily Grind. 1/4/13: Taking One For The Team: Mike and Ana's first proper, and somewhat fateful, meeting during Part II of Billy and Don's Awesome Adventure.
1. First

_**Set somewhere in the last chapter of **__There Were Nine__**. Just a little Colby, Liz and more pairing than there ever was in the actual series.**_

* * *

_First_

Colby is all raw, jagged edges and desperate terror the first time they fall together. Liz holds to him as tightly as she can, fingertips leaving bruises, because it feels as though if she releases just a little of her hold on him, even just for a moment, he will fly apart into a million pieces.

She can't face the thought losing this, him, too, so she holds impossibly tight as they press together so closely that neither are sure where they end and the other begins. Colby's mouth beneath hers tastes like a heady mix of grief and loss and a bitter kind of hope and her skin against his feels searing and icy at the same time.

When that last barrier is breached their edges begin to blur and her breath hitches against the salty skin of his throat. Somehow, as their edges shimmer and fade and redefine themselves around each other, for the first time it hurts just a little less to breathe.


	2. Tradition

_**Set post-**There Were Nine. **Billy, Ian, team, Alan, Charlie and Amita. Some angst, a little hope and both less and more change than they'd wished for.**_

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_Tradition_

Billy goes back to LA the next December. He only takes a go-bag because he isn't staying very long. He'll check in on Alan and Charlie, drop by and see how Colby and David and Ian and Liz and Nikki are doing, but he plans to be on the eight o'clock flight back south for Christmas. In his go-bag sits a small collection of treasures that have had various homes, just like him, over the years. Worn postcards, tiny figurines, foreign coins, baseball cards, cassettes, Polaroids and scrawled notes. He knows every word on the postcards, baseball cards and notes, every nuance of the Polaroids, every inch of the figurines, every track on the cassettes, every denomination and every origin of each and every coin.

When he drops by the Craftsman, Alan and Charlie look better than when he left LA almost a year ago. Although better, Alan still looks a little too old, a little too sad, a little too weary. Charlie, in contrast, looks a little more alert, a little brighter, a little less lost. He looks at Amita and there is a little bit of a glow to her that he doesn't think the others see yet. He resolves to let them figure it out on their own and a little bit of him is already excited for the phone call when they do.

He makes his way to the sprawling house that somehow feels a little like home even though he's never been there before. He sees changes. Colby has the same shadows in his eyes but his face is clearer and he doesn't burn for the hunt in the same way that Billy knows he did before. David looks harder, stronger, fuller.  
Ian looks almost human again and Billy doesn't know whether its wishful thinking but it is almost as though he sees a glimpse of the man he never really met but felt he'd known. Liz seems taller, softer, quieter than before and Nikki is both older and younger, less and more, all at once.

Later, with cool stone against his forehead and soft grass under his knees as the unseasonably bright sun begins to drop beneath the horizon, Billy settles his treasures underneath the simple words engraved upon the slate. He closes his eyes, breathes out slowly, and lays his hands against the inscription as he hopes that somehow, somewhere, Don is watching and remembers all these little treasures that he's brought here to share all over again.


	3. Thirteen

_**Almost four years after **__There Were Nine __**- thirteen of them finally recieve the closure they've been waiting for and for some of them it isn't quite what they expect.**_

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_Thirteen_

At the beginning of August in 2013, when they get the phone call they've been waiting for, Philip Wright, in the middle of retirement proceedings, doesn't think twice about pulling as many relief agents as he possibly can to free up David Sinclair, Liz Warner, Nikki Betancourt and Tim King. Colby Granger and Tommy McLean already have favours called in and strings pulled and Philip himself is going to be right there with them. Nothing short of another 9/11 would stop him.

They've been waiting for three years, eight months and two days, ever since court proceedings began, to see Angelo Barinelli escorted to Terre Haute and now that day has been set there isn't a chance that they're going to be anywhere else. That those favours and strings mean Billy Cooper is assigned there is a happy coincidence.

On the 13th of August thirteen of them settle into seats in a small room dominated by a large glass window. Megan Reeves sits between a pale Alan and a shaky Charlie Eppes and Gary Walker, stoic as even, sits on Alan's other side. Ian Edgerton, all fathomless eyes and tight features, sits between Colby and Nikki who don't fuss any more than the occasional glance out of the corners of their eyes. Liz and David, calm and dignified in their fury, are either side of them and Tommy, Philip and Billy sit alone in the back row. Every line of their bodies is rigid with anticipation but no one sees it.

They watch as Barinelli is led to a seat and the last rites are read. They watch as his eyes settle on a point somewhere just above their heads. It takes thirteen minutes, from beginning to end, from the moment the ice enters Barinelli's veins to the moment they call time of death.

Alan and Charlie seem to deflate with relief and Megan is a little paler than she was thirteen minutes ago. Ian's eyes become just a little less fathomless and his face a little less closed. David's hand closes around Nikki's shoulder and he sighs quietly. Gary's eyes flash, just once, but his shield doesn't waver. Colby and Liz's fingers, tangled together tightly, are the only outward show of their satisfaction. Tommy thinks seriously, again, about retirement and Philip wonders whether he's really ready to leave.

Billy tears his eyes away from the glass window and closes them, tilting his head to the ceiling as a not-quite-smile dances around his lips, as a quiet content settles in his bones. He isn't above believing in signs and he thinks that, after two decades of trying and failing, Don may have finally succeeded in making thirteen his favourite number.

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_**A/N: To **Guest**: I appreciate the correction but I did mean to use 'rites'. They're not reading him his rights, they're conducting a form of deathbed rites.**_


	4. Maybe We'll Buy You A Cape

_**Pre-**__The Daily Grind: __**Nikki Betancourt hears all sorts of things when she finds out she's being transferred to the LA Violent Crimes squad. When she gets to the heart of the matter, turns out she's going to be working with the FBI equivalent of the Avengers, basically. She isn't entirely sure what to expect. Don't own it.**_

* * *

"… don't forget Edgerton and Cooper," Rory Brown says, an expression dangerously close to hero-worship on his face and accent thick with excitement. "Edgerton took a shine to them on that copycat sniper case, from what I hear anyway. I guess he and Eppes were friends at Quantico too. He's practically theirs although no one would say it to his face. Cooper and Eppes were partners years ago in Fugitive Recovery, pair of _legends_. He drops by LA way more than anywhere else now, no one ever thought he was going to have a proper home base."

Nikki Betancourt raises an eyebrow and wonders just when the FBI turned into high school. "They shit rainbows and pots of gold too, right?"

"I wish I could say he was messing with you," her team leader, Kylie Deacon, says, shaking her head. "But they really are pretty much Bureau royalty. The waiting list for the LA office is a mile long, I have _no_ idea how you got your second posting there." There is a distinct note of envy in her voice.

"Probably because she neutered Johnny and they figure if anyone can handle her it'll be downtown VC," Rory says helpfully. "Liz Warner is supposed to be a serious hardass. _Big_ brass ones, if you know what I mean."

"More like Queen Bee now that Megan Reeves is going back east," Kylie says with a roll of her eyes. "If this were high school she would be stepping up as cheerleading captain."

"The way you lot are gossiping, I thought we _were_ in high school," Beau Woods points out, leaning against the divider with a wry look on his face. "Have any of you actually met any of the people you're talking about?"

"I was in the same elevator as David Sinclair and Colby Granger once!" Kylie's grin is smug. "They smiled at me."

"They smile at everyone they see," Rory shoots back. "Everyone in LA knows that. They're like Captain America and Bruce Banner. I met Megan Reeves once, at the Quantico anti-terror training in '05. She was nice." He looks thoughtful. "She did kick my ass on the mats though. No one told me she teaches Krav Maga _before_ I volunteered. Maybe we should buy you a cape as a transfer gift so you'll fit in."

"Well," Beau says with a grin, "I've worked with every single one of them."

Three pairs of eyes lock on his face, two with jealous incredulity and the last with wary scepticism. "What was it like?" Kylie and Rory breathe in unison.

Beau's grin gets bigger. "They were awesome."

Nikki sighs as Kylie and Rory high five and begin to press Beau for details. She doesn't want to tempt fate but she's pretty sure it's already a lost cause and is going to be a really long two weeks before she actually gets to her new squad. She really hopes they don't buy her a cape.

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_**I have a feeling I shouldn't have found this as funny as I did.**_


	5. Taking One For The Team

_What is to blame for this insanity: **So, I had this really interesting cocktail the other night and it had carbonated espresso in it. I'm not sure whether it was a natural progression of things or the fault of the stupidly attractive bartender who could do the most fascinating rippling kind of thing with the various (read: delicious) arm muscles he had but I somehow got thinking about what Ana had to do to convince poor dear Mike to start delivering coffee to them in **Billy and Don's Awesome Adventure**. I'm only assuming this from the mangled note-to-self in my phone that I woke up to the next morning and the fact that I still haven't managed to remember exactly what happened in all the blank spots from that evening.**_

**Mike and Ana's first proper and somewhat fateful meeting, set sometime in Part II of** _Billy and Don's Awesome Adventure_.

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_Taking One For The Team_

Mike's always been good at picking out the FBI agents that come into the shop. They're usually the first ones in and last ones out, pop in at the oddest times during the day and they're always in a rush. He's seeing a lot more of a handful of familiar faces lately as well. Big orders, several times a day, and usually it'll be the sandy-haired guy and either of the two hot brunettes. They always look stressed but the younger of the two women always remembers to smile and thank whoever gives them their order.

Mike tries to be that person as often as possible. When she comes in one morning, on her own, looking a little distressed, rather dishevelled, and with a generous eyeful of cleavage on display, he thanks deities he doesn't know a thing about that it's one of the shop's few quiet periods. He immediately engages her in conversation.

"Hi there. Are you after the usual today?"

She blinks and he's slightly alarmed to see the gleam of tears in the corner of her eyes as she nods. _What the hell could make an FBI agent cry?_ He tries to tamp down the panic that the thought brings as he tallies it up and she slides a fifty across the counter with a slightly trembling hand and waves off her change.

Rallying his courage, he strikes up conversation again. "So, how are you guys going? I know everyone's all focused on that escaped murderer guy but have you had anything exciting going on down here in LA?"

Her only response is a sob as the tears trickle free and he almost spills scalding hot milk all over his hands in a panic as she immediately begins swiping at her eyes. "Oh, goodness, I'm sorry," she hiccups as she reaches for a pile of napkins and reaches around the coffee maker to drop them over the mess he's made. "My-my boss was sent out after tha-that _bastard_." She pats his hand through the napkins. "We just got-" Another sobs escapes her. "They just note-notified us this morning… god, he was in that SUV that burned up. I'm so sorry about your hands, did you burn them?"

Mike has completely forgotten about his hands and the coffee. Somehow watching her cry is like watching a train wreck and being kicked in the balls at the same time. "My hands are fine but shit, I am so sorry about your boss. Did-did he come in here with you often?"

She shakes her head, tears still slipping down her face, and he very deliberately keeps his eyes on her face and not any lower. "No." Another tiny sob escapes. "He-he always made our coffee in the office when he could."

Swallowing thickly, Mike clears the napkins away and steadies his hands, picking up the order where it had been left off when he briefly forgot how to use his hands properly. "Christ, that's awful. I'm so sorry, again."

"Trent Jacobs will pay for it," she says and there is a note of steel in her voice underneath the tears that Mike is pretty sure he's going to go to hell for finding attractive. She softens a little and offers a small, sad smile. "We'll probably be in pretty often now." A slightly tearful giggle. "Even if we weren't completely terrible at making it, none of us can look at the coffee pot anymore."

Mike's mouth is open and he's speaking before his brain can even catch up. "I can deliver, you know. If you'd like. You must be so busy and it would really be the least we could do considering everything you guys sacrifice for us."

The smile that lights up her tearstained face only sets his brain further behind and he can't stop the tiny glance downwards this time.

* * *

**Poor Mike.**


End file.
